but then.... FINALLY you replied a message, telling me what I wanna hear

Stupid bitch! This is our LAST business deal together.

Or the hatchet will find its target for real.

(prose is dully stopped when the sms arrived, sorry guys)

p.s. - In a very dark mood because a transaction deal turns sour. Among the reason why I cannot do well in business. It's the mafia boss in me, very impatient. And have zero tolerance for swindling people.

My brother (left) and uncle. Notice his dexterity with that very sharp axe as he cut up the evidence of the dastardly deed!!

Head of the poor goat used in the terrible bloody pagan ceremony!!

The Mastermind : My own mother, she's a mafia boss at her best.

The Assassins : My youngest brother (codename Kopet) and uncle.

The Victim : Molly

The Grevious Party : My middle brother (codename Bobo).

The Cheer Squad : The rest of the family, extensions included.

Molly was my brother's nanny goat, one of the huge Jamnapari type, which can weight around 90 to 120 kg. This particular she goat was being a bad mother by not letting her two kids suckling her. By refusing to do so, her udder and stomach became bloated. Molly was already on her way to the Big Paddock in the sky.

So this afternoon, my mother woke her youngest son and told him to sharpen some machetes. "Go and find your uncle. We are going to slaughter that goat." So Kopet drove to the home-village (where the goats are) and we (my mom and me) arrived there an hour later.

The goat was already slaughtered (see the head) and Kopet and my uncle were busy chopping out the meat and bones outside the kampung house. My other brother, Bobo was clearly sulking nearby and Kopet mentioned many times that Bobo cried twice after the goat was killed. He loves his goats that well. (As for me, I feel nothing. Goats are huge and smelly creatures).

So my mum and aunt busied themselves with the crockery and pots. The bones were boiled into soup and the mutton cooked 'masak lemak kuning'. Two of my favourite dishes.

The verdict; The yummiest dish ever! We should kill... er... get more mutton each year.

I love my car, I really do. It is big, dark and has taken me far and wide all these 3 years.

But I don't treat it as good as it deserve.

Yesterday afternoon I promised the car to have it serviced, but I forgot. And last night I went out with a friend with HIS car, leaving my worthy vehicle at home (which I rarely do).

And this morning, as I was about to leave the petrol station near home for work, my car stalled. I didn't scream, not even panic. Because in the gloom of the morning, I can FEEL my car's smug aura. "Take that you evil driver, you!"

So now I am at home, typing this, while waiting for the workshop to open at 10.00 am. (Maybe I'll take an off-day.)

Treat your machines right. You might never know when they can fail you.

UPDATE :

It cost me RM 280 for a f*cking maintenance-free battery, RM 68 for the bloody lubricant, RM 25 for a stupid oil filter and arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!! I need to lie down a bit.

I studied French for two years (1994-95) as it was compulsory for boarding school students to take up a foreign language. It is a beautiful language, but a horror to remember all those grammar things. But what we love most were the songs, and one of the songs is "Il court il court".

My French teacher told us that it was a song about a missing cat, running around the place, and a pretty cat he was too. The singer(s) was supposed to ask people where the cat was. She told us that 15 years ago...

And I googled 15 minutes ago, and I FOUND OUT that 'furet' is actually French for ferret!!! Well, well, well. We've been singing that particular children song for years and thought it was about a cat! And I've never seen an actual ferret all my life until last year. Hurm....

An announcement; My ferret Kaos has finally met his roommate, another sable ferret of 2 months old, named Pingu (yes, after a penguin). I have two ferrets now. Mwa ha ha ha ha!

I was compelled to type this post after reading TechnoBabe's recent entry. Something happened this afternoon, and I'd like to share with the few of you.

I have a new Form 4 student who arrived last month from a school further away. He was quiet and I must confess I never spoke a word directly to him (because I always teach in general). Then he began to miss school for many times a week, and as a curious person, I asked about his wellbeing from the classmates.

His friends told me that after school he worked at a local restaurant till very late. As a very liberal person, I just wished him luck quietly and continued teaching the rest of the brood. I thought that maybe some students are just happier working for money than study. It's a common trait.

Yet this afternoon, my colleague who teaches Chemistry informed me about the plight of this particular student of mine during my class at the lab. He told me that this student comes from a very poor family and his father had just recently had one of his feet cut off because of some disease. So the family almost barely make ends meet, thus my student had to work extra hard until late at night to support his family. Life is now a struggle for him.

If the family receive no help, he might drop out of school.

Pity.

This is the thing I always preach to my students. Life is not always sweet and beautiful. When the storm comes and hit you badly, be prepared to crawl on your knees and hands to continue. But believe it or not, when I told his case to my waiting students after the conversation with my colleague, a few students said that their life are GUARANTEED to be well.

And I solemnly cursed them aloud - mostly wishing death and destruction to their family and property. I really did.

Last night my new best friend called and asked if I can accompany him to meet his friend who lives in the city. It seemed that his friend, a girl of younger age was hysterical over the phone, asking him to come and help her at home. As I got nothing better to do, I just tagged along.

During the drive, my friend told me that the girl is living together with her older boyfriend (he got a punitive jab at the ribs for associating with scandalous people). And that night she and her lover finally take their differences to the extreme - a real slug fest + wrestlemania. I didn't believe my friend's story, naturally.

So we arrived at the girl's house, and my friend's female friend was waiting for us outside. Both of them started to talk animatedly and I got bored like after 5 minutes of the conversation. So I walked to a nearby convenience shop and bought myself a chocolate bar and a huge colourful lollipop. I walked back to join my friend and this stricken girl, with the huge lollipop literally in my mouth (with the stick sticking outside :) ).

Yes, I PURPOSELY did this childish thing. I like to annoy people randomly. (And that happen to be my very first lollipop this year).

Anyway, the violence between the lovers was valid indeed. When I idly asked her if she had any mark from the fight, she showed her arms and neck, which were bruised and decorated with nail marks too! (Which we didn't notice at first in the gloom).

My friend, the nicer half of us asked the girl to have patience if she still loves her man. Me, the evil half, advised her to go to a clinic and get a medical report, for future use (court, death, police etc). She thought I was making a joke, with the candy stick in my mouth.

I do not wish to dwell on this longer. Because I simply disapprove of unmarried couples living together, no matter how they love each other.

Oh, and we stopped by Pizza Hut on the way back. I just love pepperoni pizza!

The moral of the story; People can start bitchin' around, but some people just don't really care and eat candy instead.

Yesterday I did something that you people who know me real well would say; "We don't believe you one bit!" Even a few friends who visited during yesterday Independence Day said they cannot trust me when I broached the subject.

You see, I am abandoning my PlayStation 3 gaming life for good. (but may play other games on my notebook computer, of course).

The PlayStation series was a part of my life for more than a decade. I bought my PS1, and later PS2 from the same dealer and our (me and PS) relationship was closer than a sex-crazed couple. I spent hundreds of hours on many games, and if I estimated correctly, one fifth of my day is exclusively for gaming.

Then the paragon of all consoles arrived... the PS3. I bought mine a few months after the launching in Singapore (because Sony didn't launch it here, piracy problem). Mine was one of the very first few in the whole state of Malacca. The price of the games was astronomic (because PS3 can only read original dvds) but for the love of gaming, everything is a-ok.

We spent two solid years of happiness together, a lot of money went to buy the expensive games. Until one morning a few days ago...

I pulled of the cables and put the console away. I was not even tempted to play anymore. Suddenly the urge for gaming died, like the last embers extinguished by a cold glass of water. I felt nothing, not empty, just nothing. And last night I did the second step for the culling. I put out an advert to sell ALL of my games. See it here. A lot of people are interested to buy because my price is even lower than the rest of the sellers.

I am not making a lot of money though, I may lost around 50% of my cost, and that would be in the thousands of ringgit. Never mind.